If You Just Believe
by April1
Summary: R/T: This is the sequel to "Never Say Never," so it is recommended that you read that one first.
1. Chapter One

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"Do you really want to know why I'm not with those other girls right now? Why they don't mean anything to me? Why they never cross my mind because there is only one who consumes every thought that I have? It's because they're not you, Rory. And if you still don't know what I mean, then I think you owe it to yourself to find out."

*****

Rory rhythmically flipped the event schedule in front of her face, enjoying the cool breeze that washed over her heated cheeks, providing relief from the sticky warmth that caused tendrils of her hair to curl against the damp skin on the back of her neck. The steamy early evening, July sun beat down relentlessly like an angry spotlight, watching over the proceedings of the annual Fourth Fest in Hartford, an arts and crafts extravaganza, often used as an excuse to mix and mingle with society rather than a reason to celebrate the historical birthday of America. The whole hoopla ended in a bang-up fireworks display at 11:00 later that night.

"So, who wants funnel cake?" Lorelai bounced eagerly on her toes, gazing out over the sea of heads towards the swarm of food stands, the origin of the delightful scents of candy apples, cotton candy, hot dogs, greasy fries, and of course, the ever-present funnel cake. The commercialized stands where scattered throughout the field, broken apart by the occasional table offering homemade goodies by local residents whose recipes were well-known in the city.

Rory turned to her mother who was looking too perky and fresh for a day out in the sweltering heat. They had only just arrived, and already Rory felt like a withered piece of lettuce that has been left out in the sun too long. "You're already thinking about food? I was fantasizing about a nice, tall glass of cold lemonade. Maybe even with one of those tacky plastic umbrellas."

"My day will not be complete without that doughy goodness called funnel cake."

"I thought coffee was the bane of your existence. Oh, now it will be upset that you don't want to marry it anymore. It's been dumped for a greasy piece of dough."

Lorelai's eyes lit up excitedly. "That reminds me, I should take some back home to Luke."

"So he can remind you how said cake is clogging your arteries and congealing in globs of fat as we speak?"

"All the better. You know, that sounds like a delectable combination. How about a coffee and funnel cake flavored ice cream? Contact Ben and Jerry's… I don't think it's been patented yet!"

Sookie, who had been poring over her schedule fervently, walked over to the two women, pointing at something on the wrinkled paper. "Before we do anything else, I want to check out Ms. Betty's stand. She's supposed to have the best succotash in the state. I'm hoping I can bribe her into sharing the recipe." She giggled, looking forward to taste testing all of the latest and greatest varieties of snacks, dishes, and pastries. Tugging on Lorelai's arm, Sookie began to plow her way through the throngs of people seeming to be moving around at an almost snail's pace.

Lorelai dug her feet into the grass, halting Sookie's determined march. "Rory, are you coming with us?"

Rory looked longingly towards the crafts section of the festival, clutching the schedule tightly in her fingers. "I really want to check out the paintings, so could we meet back here later?" She gestured to the flamboyantly decorated banner that marked the entrance to the celebratory scene.

"Be waiting with funnel cake!" Lorelai's voice trailed off as Sookie dragged her in the direction of the Shangri La of recipes.

*****

Rory strolled through the array of craft tables, occasionally picking up knickknacks and admiring the exquisitely handcrafted detailing in their smooth wooden surfaces. Children, faces sticky with cotton candy and spilled lemonade, gleefully ran by her, barely avoiding knocking over valuable works of expert craftsmanship and sending them shattering into a thousand pieces on the hard ground. She delicately lifted a replica of a rose, its petals that had been etched into the wood flowing easily like waves over sand. No detail had been overlooked, and it was almost as if the artist had actually planted a seed into the grained material and nurtured it until the bloom was revealed in all its glory. A rose that resembled hope and life, a rose like the tiny buds that had been embroidered on her dress the night of the last Chilton formal. The night when something deep within her began to work its way forth, like that seed reaching toward the first few rays of spring sunlight. The night when clarity finally shone through the veil of confusion, lighting the path straight to _him_, a path that had yet to be explored.

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"I'll be seeing you this summer, Rory. You can count on it."

Tristan's vow still echoed in her ears over a month later, memories of a promise not fulfilled. But after time had passed with no sign of him, a part of her had resigned to the fact that her sometimes overactive imagination had twisted and turned over the occurrences that night, making it all seem like an over dramatized late-night television movie. Though, to be honest with herself, Rory knew every word that had been spoken by him that night was permanently branded in her mind, serving as a reminder that those statements were real, and for once, she had no intention of denying them.

She took a sip of her lemonade, disgruntled to find that the cup was empty save a small mess of melted down ice. Weaving her way to the massive, blue plastic trash bin, her eyes scanned the hordes of people around her, searching for any familiar face. The one she found was the one least expected, the one who caused her to stop in her tracks, regardless of the festival-goers who threw her peculiar glances. Tristan was standing with a group of three other guys a little ways away, facing her. Unnoticed, Rory stood frozen in place, mesmerized by the all too attractive way he carried himself, casually but yet oozing a confidence that spoke volumes about the kind of person he was. It was something she had noticed before but never given much thought to, but now, his every nuance seemed to strike a chord deep within her. The way the sun glinted off his messily tousled, but still perfect, blond locks, the way his bronzed skin contrasted sharply with the pale blue shirt he was wearing, loosely unbuttoned over a white tank top that tapered down over his slim waist to rest on khaki cargo shorts. None of these discoveries were lost on Rory, for she freely drank him in with her eyes, not seeming to realize that she was openly staring, something she wasn't accustomed to. At that moment, Tristan glanced up, those stormy as an ocean blue eyes locking on hers as a slow, satisfied half smile curved on his lips. His companions remained talking to him, but he paid no attention, completely caught up in the feeling of Rory being there as he caressed her with his gaze alone. 

Rory felt a tremble play out a melody on her spine, and she shook her head imperceptibly, knocking herself out of the daze that had begun to envelop her since that warm summer night over a month ago. She took a step forward, her elbow knocking into the hard surface of the trash bin, sending it and herself sprawling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and plastic. Her hands shot out to brace her fall, her fingers digging into the slightly muddy grass. Standing up on quivering legs, she reached for her cup and the spilled ice, whirling around with a yelp when she felt a stream of freezing cold liquid trail like a tiny stream down her neck. Tristan was behind her, an innocent glisten of mischief in his eyes as he held an ice cube, melting into nothing more than a puddle of water, in his palm. 

"What are you doing?" Rory asked him indignantly, rubbing her neck where Tristan had just languidly ran the ice cube over her bare skin.

"No hello, Tristan? How are you doing today, Tristan?" He flicked some of the excess water onto her arm. "That's quite a greeting, Rory."

"I just wanted to know why you suddenly felt the need to wet me down with freezing cold water." Rory pulled at the bottom of her shirt, wiping the beads of liquid off her arm.

Noting her flushed cheeks, a self-confident smirk graced his features in that familiar way. "You looked hot."

Rory didn't miss the way Tristan's eyes seemed to take in every inch of her at once, lingering on her lips, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to hold himself back from something that would eventually be unavoidable. She rolled her eyes at him, not able to ignore the way her stomach was performing circus style high diving skills at his smoldering stare. "Your creeping up like that scared me. I didn't even see you."

Tristan took a step closer to her, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of her airy perfume, something simple that triggered a thousand memories that came flooding over him. He absorbed the way her eyes seemed to flit everywhere at once, the way she bit her lip at the sudden intimate contact of his shoulder against hers. "Oh, I saw you watching me."

"I know… I mean, I wasn't…" Rory stammered uselessly, giving up her fruitless protests when the knowing smile spread across his face. She searched for a safe topic, anything to change the subject from where she knew he would most likely take it. "How's your summer going?"

He stepped away from her, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "The usual; hanging out at the country club, helping my father with mundane tasks at the firm, anything that will keep me occupied."

Rory raised her eyebrows at him quizzically. "Why do you need to keep yourself occupied? Why can't you just let yourself go for once? Summer has relaxation written all over it."

"That might be easy for you, Rory, but I have a lot of things on my mind."

"Like what?" 

"You." 

His answer was simple, yet it carried with it a crescendo of innuendos, those that made a current of electricity run through Rory's veins, jump starting her heart into a rapid race towards the unknown. Just the idea of him thinking of her, made a flush rise over her, working it's way up to her cheeks. She would admit now that Tristan had crossed her own mind, more often than none. "You think about me?" Her voice came out like a desperate squeak, and she ducked her head, imagining how foolish she must have sounded to someone always so calm and collected.

Tristan tantalizingly ran his finger down her arm, letting it linger on the inside of her wrist before pulling away. "Let's just say, you've made it hard for me to get any sleep."

Rory shivered at his touch, not daring to even think about what the pressure from his lips would do to her, if just the feeling of his skin being against hers had the ability to send her world hurtling into space around her. Yes, they had kissed once before, but that was before things had been said, before things had changed in ways she still wasn't sure of. He had told her that those other girls who so desperately wanted him, who would give him anything he desired, meant nothing to him because they weren't her. At the time of that unveiling of Tristan's feelings, Rory had been in a state of semi-disbelief, but seeing the way he was looking at her now, like she was the only person he ever wanted to look at again, things began to become all too clear. "Tristan, you…" She was interrupted by an urgent tug on the hem of her shorts.

"Excuse me?" A little girl, beneath brown pigtails and a smattering of freckles, asked Rory tentatively, gazing up at her with sparkling green eyes. "Me and some other kids are trying to get a water balloon toss going, but we need some judges, and I saw you two standing here…" The girl paused to take a breath, waving her hands around animatedly. "So could you help us?"

Rory crouched down to bring herself to the girl's eyelevel. "That sounds like fun. I'd be glad to help, that is as long as my friend can come along?"

The girl nodded her affirmation and ran off in the direction of another group of children, shouting excitedly. Rory reached for Tristan's hand, threading her fingers through his, a tingle running up through her arm at the contact. "Come on." She pulled on his arm, urging him to follow her.

Tristan barely had time to register surprise and control the sharp intake of breath at the feeling of her tiny hand squeezing his, something that meant even more because she had taken the initiative. It was a thoughtless gesture, almost as if it were completely natural for their hands to find each other in this manner, like keys fitting into a lock of the home where you belong. As Rory dragged him over to the kids, Tristan couldn't suppress a laugh at the boundless energy Rory seemed to possess. This was the girl who had come to mean so much to him, the one uninhibited by other… people. The particular name of that person would remain unspoken, for nothing was going to tarnish the special otherworldly texture in the air. Tonight it was just him and Rory. No one else mattered, no one else existed. "What have you gotten us into?"

Rory glanced back at him over her shoulder, chuckling at his expression of trepidation. "I thought you would welcome any type of relief from this muggy weather. Water balloons should do nicely."

He grinned at her seductively, his eyes flashing heatedly, their blue depths flickering with unexpressed emotions. "Speaking of water, seeing you in a wet T-shirt is definitely something I could get used to."

She heaved a deep, exaggerated sigh. "Some things never change. Besides, I don't plan on getting wet."

"We'll see about that. Water balloons are meant to be broken."

*****

The water balloon toss had just finished a mere few minutes earlier as Rory crept up on Tristan, easily shifting a rubbery balloon bloated with water between her hands. He was standing with his back to her, conversing with a young boy who kept claiming that he deserved a prize for his expert skills at the game. Rory reared back her arm and let the balloon fly, watching as it bounced harmlessly off Tristan's shoulder and fell uselessly to the ground with a wet splat. He slowly turned around to face her, his eyebrows raised in mild amusement. Picking up the balloon and squeezing it lightly between his fingers, he walked towards her in a stalking, almost predatory manner. "I thought you had a better aim than that, Rory. I guess I'm more of a distraction to you than I originally thought."

"You are not," Rory insisted weakly, wringing her hands nervously in front of her when she saw the evil glint in his eyes. 

Tristan stopped a few feet away from her and tilted his head to gaze at her speculatively. "We all know you can't resist me." As soon as that last remark had been delivered, he threw the balloon at her, watching in triumph as it hit her side, busting in a shower of water. 

Rory shrieked, instinctively jumping away, but the damage had already been done; her shirt was soaked straight through to her skin. She glared at him, growling at the way his shoulders shook with almost uncontrollable laughter. In a flash of movement, before he even noticed her, she grabbed the water hose used to fill up the balloons and aimed the spray at him, intent on giving him no mercy. Tristan barely registered surprise as he looked down at his own clothes, already beginning to be drenched, and he jogged over to Rory, grabbing the hose in his hands. She jerked it from him and hurried away, so focused on escaping that her feet slid out from under her on the slippery, wet grass, sending her crashing into Tristan's warm, firm body. Rory clutched the front of his shirt, trying to get a grip as they both tumbled to the ground with the hose falling on top of them, raining over them like the middle of a summer thundershower.

Tristan lay sprawled on top of Rory, one arm bracing himself up beside of her, the other cradling her head protectively. Water shimmered in his hair, like pearls freshly gathered from the ocean, as it dripped down over his chiseled cheekbones, beading in his long, thick eyelashes and pooling over his lips. Rory felt like it was impossible to move, not only due to the weight of Tristan pressing on every inch of her body, but also because of the unparalleled effect he had on her nervous system. Every fiber felt like it had melted along with the water, like the Wicked Witch of the West in _The Wizard of Oz_, but it was a feeling of intense pleasure, one to be greeted with wonder and amazement at this incredible phenomenon that had taken over her body. Rory took in every marvelous detail at once, not missing the way Tristan's saturated tank top was nearly transparent as it clung to him like a second skin. The water droplets from his face peppered hers as he leaned closer to her, his fingers running through her wet hair, massaging her neck. 

"How's the whole resisting thing going now, Rory?" His lips curled up into a small smirk, teasing her. "Are you ready to give in yet?"

The huskiness in Tristan's voice had her quaking from the hairs on her head down to the tips of her toes, and she was positive he could feel it. His face moved closer, enough to where she could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with the freezing cold water on her skin. His lips were inches from hers, and she knew that she was ready, ready to give in, to surrender to him, to the indescribable connection that had been built between them. Something that had always been there, but that had only recently begun to work its way forth because she had allowed it to, for she knew that it was time to open the door so he could enter her life. Rory arched her neck, waiting for the melding of his lips against hers, but it never came. 

A chorus of childlike giggles drifted over them, and with a groan of dissatisfaction, Tristan pulled away from her, looking up at the group of kids watching them with wide eyes. Getting to his feet, he reached out a hand to Rory, helping her stand up. They stood apart from each other yet they were joined in an eye-lock of their never-ending perusal of each other, both unaware of the children staring at them curiously or the puddles of water that gathered at their feet. 

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To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter Two

Later, after milling through the festival and examining the many treasures it had to offer, Rory stepped carefully around the families that had spread out blankets in the grass in preparation for the fireworks display due to commence any minute. She led Tristan over to a bench near the back of the throng and sat down on the polished wood, scooting over to make room for him beside of her. Lorelai and Sookie had desperately sought them out earlier, claiming of a problem at the inn that had to be attended to right away, leaving Rory with no way home. Tristan had then chivalrously offered to take her, brushing off Lorelai's words of gratitude. Now, here they were, each mulling over their own complicated set of thoughts. Rory pulled a band out of her pocket, twisting her still damp hair up into a ponytail as Tristan sat down beside of her. He squeezed his light blue shirt between his hands, wringing out the leftover excess water. Having removed the wet, clingy material earlier, he was now clad only in his tank top and khaki cargo shorts. Rory's eyes poured over him, unable to ignore the way the white cotton of the shirt made his skin glow sun kissed in the moonlight, almost as if he had spent his entire summer on the beach of the Bahamas soaking up the rays. His hair had dried soft and spiky, tousled from his hand running through it, a gesture she had come to know so well. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, the thin chain that had been concealed beneath his tank top dangling forth, revealing a pair of silver dog tags reflecting the first few fireworks that exploded tremendously in the night sky.

She reached out a hand, running her finger over their smooth metal. "Dog tags?"

Tristan turned to face her when he felt her tug lightly on the chain. "Yeah, they were my great-grandfather's military tags. I don't wear them often…" He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Oh." Noticing that the clasp was right next to the dog tags, she took it into her hands and brought it around to the back of his neck, her fingers grazing the blond tendrils of his hair. Her other hand straightened the tags in front, feeling the contact of the firm, sculpted muscles of his chest against her skin. She glanced down to her lap quickly, almost embarrassed at her sudden boldness to make contact with him, and at the way his fiery gaze penetrated into hers in turn. "You should… make a wish." Rory shook her head imperceptibly at her incapability to form the words that she wanted to say, but Tristan didn't seem to notice, his eyes burning into hers with a heat that both frightened and exhilarated her.

"A wish?" 

"Yeah," she replied, feeling silly for expressing her hope in the idea her mother had taught her long ago. "When the clasp meets the charm on your necklace, you're supposed to make a wish."

"And that's something you believe in?"

Rory smiled, remembering that when she had been younger, she had reveled in the old adage of 'if you wish for something hard enough, it will come true.' "Not exactly, but I know when you believe in something or want something badly enough, you can make it happen."

"You really think that, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. So are you going to make a wish anyway?" She grinned at him, laughing inwardly at the way it seemed so easy to tell him anything, like she could open her whole world to him, and no matter what she threw at him, he would accept it because it came from her.

"I don't need to make a wish. Like you, I'm more in favor of the go out and get what you want approach." Tristan lifted his chin confidently, unable to keep the familiar smirk from crossing his features.

"Oh really? Then what do you want?"

"I think I've already made that obvious." 

Rory's eyes jerked up to meet his then, the full meaning of his statement sinking into her muddled brain. Of course, it was something she had realized awhile ago, but to actually hear him say it while he was looking at her like she was something special, something uniquely belonging to him, was enough to have her trembling in every corner of her spine. 

Tristan took her hand in his, massaging a smooth circle over her palm with his thumb, his gaze never wavering from hers. "What would you do if I kissed you right now, Rory?"

She froze, unaware of the fireworks or the people, unaware of everything but the sensation of his hand on hers as she found herself unable to look away from his cobalt depths, losing herself in the very essence that was Tristan. Rory couldn't form the words to answer him, but she knew speaking wasn't necessary, because the certainty of what she would do rang out from where it had been buried within her heart. She would take him into her arms and never let go. She instinctively leaned closer to him, anticipating the feel of his lips on hers, but when he turned once again to look at the fireworks dancing across the heavens, she sank against the back of the bench. Her stomach felt heavy with confusion at the way he had simply looked away from her, instead of… Rory shook her head, refusing to fall into the depths of mystification when it came to Tristan, especially when everything had finally become all too apparent, as if she were looking at a river through a glass-bottomed boat.

Tristan tried to focus on the array of colors banging in the sky, like a man-made meteor shower, but he wasn't able to ignore the look of hurt that he had seen on Rory's face when he had pulled away from her, and it made him ache. Though he knew this wasn't the time to take her into his arms and show her exactly what he wanted, for advancements with her had to be taken slowly. He had learned that the hard way, and he had no intentions of messing up the one thing that was so valuable and precious to him. One step had to be taken at a time until things were absolutely perfect.

A few minutes later, the fireworks ended in a waterfall of sparkles falling like snowflakes to the ground with a crescendo of a symphony orchestra resounding from a stereo system. The massive crowd began gathering their things and headed exhaustedly towards the exit, children, still full of energy, pulling on their parents' hands excitedly. Tristan stood up from the bench slowly, turning to face Rory, where she was sitting, arms still crossed hesitatingly in front of her. "Are you ready to go home?" He asked quietly, hoping, praying that she would say she wasn't.

"No, not yet." She offered him a tentative smile, knowing that she wasn't ready for the night to end. The air seemed to have a magical feel to it as it settled over them, sheltering them from all that went on in the outside world.

Tristan nodded his head, gesturing towards the food stands, still open at that late hour. "Ice cream?"

"Sounds good."

*****

Rory licked her vanilla cone, trying to prevent the sticky liquid from melting onto her fingers. She followed Tristan over to where he was sitting on the grass, in an area secluded from the crowd intent on making their way to their cars and the comfort of their homes. "Very adventurous choice, Rory. Choosing vanilla is definitely a walk on the wild side. Why not Chunky Monkey or one of those other concoctions that make you question exactly what ingredients went into their production?"

She gestured absently to Tristan's own strawberry cone. "This coming from someone who ordered the epitome of ice cream flavors. I bet those aren't even chunks of real strawberries." They silently continued eating their ice cream, each reveling in the comfortable silence that shrouded them, each content to just bask in the presence of the other. The stillness was broken by a quiet laughter coming forth from deep within Tristan's throat. "What?" Rory looked over at him, puzzlement etching her features.

"There's some ice cream on your face." Tristan gestured to his own mouth, motioning to a spot directly beside of his lips. Rory grabbed a napkin and wiped at her face, missing the spot completely. "Here, I'll get it." Tristan reached for his own paper napkin, lifting it towards her, when his eyes locked on her lips, glistening lightly from the sweet, sugary taste of the ice cream. Before he had time to even consider his actions, he tossed the crumpled napkin aside and ran his finger tantalizingly down Rory's jaw line, hooking it under her chin and lifting it up so that she was looking at him. He swallowed past the pent up emotion in his throat, knowing that it was time and holding himself back from her would be futile. It would be like trying to stop a runaway train. Many moments, actually many months, had been leading up to this, where it was just the two of them, wanting, needing each other, in a way like they had craved no one else's touch. 

Tristan's eyes searched hers, seeing his own feelings mirrored there and finally accepting the fact that this was indeed real. She was there with him and no one else. His face came within a breath of Rory's as she felt him graze the spot of ice cream on the corner of her mouth with his lips, the simple touch sending her heart fluttering. A second later he pulled away, locking gazes with her once again, eyes no longer filled with what used to be longing, but this time they were consumed with a hunger… for her. He leaned down slowly, teasingly, finally capturing her mouth with his in a kiss that made her breath catch in her throat, a mixture of strawberry and vanilla. His lips caressed hers, as his hand sought her fingers in the grass, and then entwining with hers as if anchoring each other from spinning off into oblivion. It provided a sense of completion, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of being swept away in simply just being there, together, as if nothing else mattered. This kiss was very different from the first, for it was everything that was Tristan and everything that was Rory, full of promises, tenderness, and the essence of their souls.

And it was also different, for this time, Rory didn't pull away.

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The End.

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Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews both for this fan fiction and "Never Say Never." It is greatly appreciated, and I'm glad you all enjoyed reading it! 

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